


Before You Say I Do

by Minkel23



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Druid references, F/M, Luke is a Druid priest, M/M, Poe collects barbie dolls, Rey and Kylo Ren backstory, Secret baby trope, Wedding dress designer Poe, Wedding planner Hux, Wedding planner Rey, ben is engaged to bazine, secret Reylo baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkel23/pseuds/Minkel23
Summary: Eight years ago, Rey promised Kylo Ren she would wait for him forever.Today, she is an up and coming wedding planner, hoping to win the the pitch for the wedding of the century: that of Ben Solo and Bazine Netal.But when she comes face to face with the groom whose wedding she is planning, Rey discovers he is none other than the man who won her heart so many years before.Can they heal their fractured relationship before he says I do?
Relationships: Bazine Netal/Ben Solo, Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 179
Kudos: 299
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt on twitter and I just couldn't help myself. I'm currently shielding in lockdown London and life is miserable, so I wanted something light to work on. I know people are waiting for the next Sparrow chapter, and it will come once life improves for me. In the meantime, this is something a bit different. And wedding planner Hux? How could I resist? (Please don't smoke like he does though, especially in damp wooded areas with limited ventilation).

The ground was wet beneath her feet, the forest floor sodden and sticky with mud and fallen leaves. An earthy smell of damp was in the air, moist and rich with decay. It was a grey day, the sky the colour of slate, and what little light there was struggled to break through the overhanging canopy of trees. Leaning back against an old birch tree, Rey took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. 

It could be worse, she told herself, looking around with dismay at the patches of mud. On a clear day, there would be dappled sunshine. Without rain, the overwhelming scent of moist earth would clear, leaving only the pleasant aromas of autumn leaves and woodland trees. They could make this work, she hoped, looking around again. No, not just work. They could make this wedding  _ glorious, _ Rey decided. The private woodland chosen as the ceremony venue was crude, but it was also natural. With a little imagination, with a little heart and hard work, this could be their best work yet.

Hope rapidly filled Rey’s heart and she turned to her business partner, Armitage Hux, with a smile. Hux, leaning against a nearby beech tree, was smoking a cigarette dejectedly, blowing smoke with a huff into the damp morning air. Disappointment was written into every inch of his face, from the beautifully sculpted cheekbones of which he was rightly proud, to the downturned lips from which his cigarette hung.

“This isn’t so bad,” Rey told him, indicating around her. 

“Darling, it's a pile of shit,” Hux intoned lazily, taking another drag. 

“No,” Rey immediately argued, determined to be positive. “It’s not. It’s natural, and earthy, and it’s— ” 

“It’s a bog,” Hux interjected, his eyes lingering on the mud and trees.

“It’s autumnal,” Rey corrected him, walking into the middle of the clearing and looking around. “We can make this one of those earthy type bronze and gold October weddings,” she suggested, dropping to her haunches to pick up a fallen leaf. “That can be the colour theme, in fact. It’ll be perfect.”

Hux shrugged, blowing yet more smoke into the air. 

Rey frowned at him. “You know Poe hates that,” she chided him. “I promised him I would look after you while we were here. Three hours after landing and you’ve already smoked half a pack. Do you want to die of smoke inhalation?”

Hux shrugged again. “Looking at this place, maybe I do,” he drawled. “And Poe is three and half thousand miles away. He can hardly lecture me from here.”

Rey frowned again. “What about forest fires, then?”

Hux indicated to his mud-splattered shoes. “That’s an excellent idea, darling. Let’s burn the place down and force our rich ‘we must have the perfect outdoor wedding for instagram’ clients to hire a venue we can actually work with, hmm?”

Rey sighed. “We can work with this,” she told him. “This isn’t the worst ceremony venue we’ve faced. Remember that beach in Kent, which was great up until the night before the wedding when Storm Ida caused all those skulls and femurs from Dead Man’s Island to wash up onshore?”

Hux nodded, stubbing his cigarette out on the trunk of a tree.

“We did a last minute pirate photo shoot which went down a treat,” Rey carried on. “Was it distasteful? Probably. Did the photos go viral? Absolutely. If we can work with that, we can work with this.”

“Fine, fine,” Hux agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets and coming to Rey’s side. He gave Rey a nudge. “So, Johnson, tell me: what do you have in mind?”

Rey stood, brushing her hands on her trousers. She passed Hux the leaf she’d retrieved from the forest floor. “Look at those colours,” she remarked. “Quite stunning, wouldn’t you say? Bronze and gold and red all wrapped into one. Like I said, we’ll pitch it as an earthy wedding... autumnal and— wait, Americans don’t call it Autumn, do they?”

‘No,” Hux replied bluntly, turning the leaf over in his hand. “Fall.”

Rey chewed on her lip. “So, what word do they use for ‘autumnal’ then?”

Hux sighed, crumbling the leaf in between his fingers. “Fucking fallout probably,” he stated, pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He went to light another one as Rey glared at him. “What?” he asked, as he lit up. “A fallout is what our business is going to have if we don’t get this wedding right, Johnson. Might I remind you that our bride-to-be and the mother-of-the-groom will be meeting with us in exactly one hour to hear all our ideas for this piece of shit parcel of land they  _ absolutely must  _ have the ceremony on? If we don’t come up with the goods ASAP, we can kiss goodbye to all of our plans to expand into the lucrative North American wedding business.”

“I know,” Rey replied. “And I want this to work as much as you do. I’ve just as much at stake, you know, and...” she trailed off, as something in Hux’s words made her pause. “What do you mean, the mother-of-the-groom? Why not the mother-of-the-bride?”

“Dead,” Hux said, sucking down another inhalation of nicotine. “We’re working with the bride and her prospective mother-in-law.”

“Fuck,” Rey whispered, and Hux gave a nod of agreement. 

“Indeed,” he blew out another plume of smoke. “The mother-of-the-groom is always complicated to work with, especially if she doesn’t have any daughters of her own.”

“Does this one have a daughter?” Rey queried instantly, her stomach falling as Hux shook his head.

“Sadly not. Groom is an only child.”

“Double fuck,” Rey whispered, and Hux gave her a rueful grin.

“That’s the spirit,” he remarked. “We have to deal with what will most likely be an antagonistic relationship between two women all the while planning the wedding of the year on this, the shit field of dreams.” He gave another depressed shake of his head. “Who in the bloody hell gets married in a wood? For fucks sake, haven’t these people ever heard of Lyme disease?”

“You tell me,” Rey said with a shrug. “I’m the artistic director, remember? You manage the clients.”

Hux took a long drag on his cigarette. “Miss Teen Rhode Island,” he muttered, and Rey stared at him.

“What? I don’t understand. Is that a cocktail or something?”

Hux laughed in a puff of smoke. “No, darling, it’s our tree-hugging bride-to-be. Bazine Netal.”

“Bazine Netal?” Rey furrowed her brow. “That’s got to be a drink name, right?”

“Sadly not,” Hux took another drag, before pulling his phone out. He swiped across the screen several times, before tossing it in Rey’s direction. Rey caught it deftly, before glancing down, at which point she inhaled sharply.

“The bride?” She asked.

Hux nodded lazily. “Photogenic, isn’t she?” He mused, stubbing his cigarette onto the tree again.

Rey continued to stare at his phone. “That’s putting it lightly,” she exhaled, her voice rich with admiration.

Bazine Netal was breathtaking; there was no other word, Rey decided, that could possibly do her justice. Dark of hair and dark of eye, she had the sort of alabaster skin that Rey — perpetually tanned and freckled — deeply envied in others. Bazine’s face, smiling in this photograph, was shaped beautifully, just sharp enough to catch all the right camera angles while soft enough to look womanly and young. She was without a doubt the most striking bride Rey had ever worked with, and with just one look at Bazine’s siren-like beauty, an idea formed in her mind.

“She’s an  _ aes sídhe _ ,” Rey whispered, handing Hux back his phone.

He looked at her quizzically. “Now you’re talking in cocktail names, darling. Care to translate?”

Rey grinned. “An  _ aes sídhe  _ in Irish Gaelic, or  _ aes sìth,  _ if you prefer Scots.”

“Still not helpful,” Hux rolled his eyes, pulling out another cigarette and bringing it to his lips.

Rey sprang forward, yanking the cigarette from Hux’s mouth and snapping it between her fingers.

“Fuck, darling—”

“An  _ aes sídhe, _ ” she said again. “One of the fair folk.”

Hux looked at her blankly.

“One of the others,” Rey carried on. “A good neighbour. One of the blessed.”

“You mean, like the Mormons?” Hux queried, pulling out another cigarette. “This isn’t a religious ceremony, Rey, I did ask in the client questionnaire—”

Rey groaned. “No, you muppet. Not the Mormons.  _ A fairy. _ ”

Hux stared at her for a moment, before he rolled his eyes and lit up. “Darling, I think all this fresh forest air is getting to you. Here, have a cigarette. It’ll clear your head right up.”

“I don’t want a cigarette.”

“Well you should, they’re fucking amazing.”

“ _ Hux,”  _ Rey spoke firmly. “Listen to me. Did you ever hear of Samhain?”

Hux scratched his head. “I think... wait, is he that bloke I slept with in the late nineties? The boy band member?”

Rey took a deep breath. “No. It isn’t a person, it’s an ancient Gaelic festival to mark the end of the harvest. Tradition says that fairies and spirits would come out of hiding to celebrate and— wait, what boy band member? You never told me about him.”

Hux grinned at her. “Darling, I have a chequered romantic history. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Does Poe know?”

“Urgh,” Hux rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile playing on his lips. “He makes me tell that story  _ all  _ the time. But then, I always ask him about that soap star he shagged and—”

Rey’s mouth fell open. “I have dinner with you and your husband like, four times a week,” she said in disbelief. “And you two have never once dished the dirt on anyone famous. Instead you’re always banging on about the newest low-carb diet you're trying while Poe is always complaining to me about that neighbour of yours who won’t cut that shrub back...”

“Patty,” Hux sneered. “And her rampant bush.”

“...and I can’t help but feel a little cheated here, Hux.”

For a moment, Hux seemed to consider her. He inhaled on his cigarette, long and thoughtful, before blowing smoke into the air above him.

“If you want the truth, Rey, Poe and I... we’re both a little uncomfortable at talking about sex with you.”

Again, Rey’s mouth fell open. “ _ Why? _ ” 

Hux shrugged. “Because you don’t have it, my darling.”

She paused, suddenly aware of the weight of the backpack on her shoulder. Uncomfortable, she shifted it, feeling colour flood her cheeks. “I have had sex, thank you very much,” she snapped. 

“Recently?” Hux asked, and Rey coloured further. 

“Well, I don’t know how you define  _ recently— ”  _ she began, before Hux shook his head.

“You’re the perfect paradox, you know,” he remarked. “A wedding planner— and one of the best in the business, I might add — who surrounds herself with magic and love and all things romance and yet has remained consistently single for... what has it been now? Seven years?”

_ Eight,  _ Rey’s head immediately supplied.  _ Eight years _ . Instinctively, her hand reached into her jacket pocket, and she traced her fingertip over the card that lay within. 

“I’m not criticising you darling,” Hux carried on. “God knows what you do in your private time is your business. But Poe and I... well, we worry about you. Sometimes we wonder if you aren’t more than a little... well, lonely.”

“How can I be lonely? I have the two of you,” Rey immediately stuttered, and Hux gave her a kindly smile.

“Yes, of course you have us, darling,” he said smoothly, blowing more smoke into the air. “But if you spent any more time with us you’d be living with us, Rey.”

“I’m not... I’m not at your house  _ all  _ the time,” Rey argued, but even she could hear the weakness in her voice.

Hux raised an eyebrow at her. “We plan our meals around you, Rey. Poe calls me from Borough Market every Saturday morning while we’re out on the wedding circuit to ask if you prefer Italian olives to Greek ones and—”

Rey stared at him in horror, shifting her boots awkwardly in the mud. “You don’t have to... to  _ plan meals  _ around me,” she exclaimed.

“I keep telling Poe that,” Hux said, rolling his eyes once more. “I keep telling him you’re like a gannet with hollow legs who eats everything but the plate her food is served upon and that even that is touch and go sometimes but does he listen to me, oh no, he’s all, ‘She is like a sister to us, Armie, and we feed our family well in my culture,’” Hux sighed, dragging on his cigarette tiredly. “God, I miss him,” he exhaled. He looked up at Rey worriedly. “Don’t tell him about the cigarettes, will you? You know what he’s like — well, of course you do, you’re with us all the time — he’s all soy and no joy, that man of mine.”

Rey worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I won’t come around so often when we get home, okay?” she offered quietly, and Hux sighed, dredging through the mud to stand by her side. 

“Yes you will, darling, because we adore you,” he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Like I said, Poe and I... we just worry about you. We’re concerned that you’re going to waste your youth waiting for a man that might not— ”

“Don’t say it,” Rey whispered, closing her eyes.

“— come back for you,” Hux finished, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

It was like a knife running down her spine, the jolt of pain Rey felt. She rubbed her fingers over the card in her pocket once more, before taking a long, cleansing breath of fresh forest air.

“He’s coming back for me,” she said firmly. “He promised.”

“Darling, I— ”

“I don’t want to talk about Kylo Ren right now,” Rey straightened, pulling her hand out of her pocket. She tidied her hair and shifted her backpack once more. “Now, can we get back to the Bazine Netal and...” she paused. “Groom’s name?”

“Ben Solo,” Hux supplied, looking at her wearily. 

“Right, okay, Ben Solo. Let’s get back to the Bazine Netal and Ben Solo wedding,” she cleared her throat, pulling a notepad from her bag and starting to jot down some notes. “I’m thinking of pitching a Samhain wedding, which, given that it's the end of September now, gives us thirteen months until the wedding day itself. Ample time to plan. I’m thinking of bonfires and harvest fare and fireflies and an outdoorsy, Instagram worthy fair folk themed event. I’m thinking of Bazine in white-gold silk. I’m thinking of a candle lit walkway to this clearing in the wood. I’m thinking of a string quartet. I’m thinking...” Rey trailed off, seeing Hux’s eyes resting on her oddly. “I’m thinking I have something on my face,” she said slowly. “Why are you staring at me? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you’re a fucking genius, darling,” Hux replied. “I’m thinking of all the money I’m going to spend once you’ve pitched this idea and won us this wedding. I’m thinking that people always say you can’t polish a turd, and yet, here we are in shit-central, and you’ve got the place shining bright, Rey.”

She gave him a proud smile. “I’m good at my job. Hopefully good enough to win us this wedding.”

“With your idea it's practically in the bag,” Hux replied. He seemed cheerier, and it pleased Rey to think that she’d helped ease his worries. 

Well, it was either her or the copious amounts of nicotine in his blood.

“I hope so,” Rey said. “What do you know about Bazine, our bride? Anything I should be prepared for?”

Hux shrugged. “She’s in finance, whatever that means. Was runner up in a Miss Teen Rhode Island contest once upon a time.”

“She didn’t win?” Rey asked in shock. “ _ How _ ? If this girl,” she pointed to the picture on Hux’s phone, “didn’t win, what the fuck did the actual winner look like?”

“So, I wondered that too,” Hux replied. “I did a little research and it turns out our bride Bazine didn’t do so well on the interview round. A little more googling and some internet stalking and I have the distinct impression she’s more of a style over substance kind of woman, our bride.”

“Right, well, that should work in our favour,” Rey replied, suddenly feeling positive. “So long as the mother-of-the-groom isn’t an issue, we’ll be planning this wedding in no time.”

Hux nodded. “I have a feeling Bazine will lap up the old routine. Me, the gay English gentleman, ready with the compliments while you produce a stunning visual of what her big day will entail. She should eat it up... just like you,” he added slyly. “With everything in my refrigerator.”

“Hey,” Rey huffed, but she smiled all the same. “Right, well, let’s get back to the house. We have a bride to win over.”

Hux nodded, before he frowned momentarily. “Don’t you want to know anything about the groom?” he asked, and Rey looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, rather interestingly, when I sent the client questionnaire over, Bazine filled in her half... but Ben Solo, groom-to-be, left his completely blank.”

“So?” Rey asked, picking her way through the mud of the wood, finding her way back to the path that led to the ornate house where they were to meet the bride and mother-of-the-groom for lunch.

“So,” carried on Hux, falling into step beside her. “Don’t you think that’s odd? Most of the time, the groom at least shows some minor interest in his wedding. But this one... it's like he’s happy to leave everything to his fiancée and mother.”

“All the better for us,” Rey shrugged.

“I just find that a little odd, is all,” Hux replied. “I’d hate to think that our North American expansion plan could be scuppered by an unruly groom, and— ”

“Hux,” Rey interrupted, coming to a stop and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help but worry about it,” Hux said, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Worry about winning over Bazine and her mother-in-law, okay?” Rey told him. “Worry about winning this pitch. Besides, in the six years we’ve been running  _ Queen and Hux Weddings _ , the groom has never been a problem,” she gave him a reassuring smile. “And there’s absolutely no reason for this Ben Solo to be any different. No reason at all.” 


	2. Ides Weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long. I had to decide what direction to go with in this story.

When Ben Solo awoke that morning, it was with his father’s face on his mind. 

He wasn’t sure why exactly. His father had been dead for six years now, and Ben tried not to dwell on that, or on him, too often. Han Solo had been relegated to the occasional anecdotal story in Ben’s world, just an odd fleeting reference or oft-told family legend, repeated with a soft smile and a warm voice. If his father ever did unexpectedly cross his mind, Ben pushed him away quickly. It wasn’t that he hadn’t loved Han — he’d idolised him, in fact — it was simply that when he thought of his father a gaping hole seemed to open within him, a wave of sorrow which threatened to pull him in and under, and he’d decided it was best not to drown in the tide. He clung to the safety of a shore free from Han’s memory and lingering presence, his eyes kept firmly landward, ignoring the ocean of grief behind him.

Instinctively, Ben reached for Bazine beside him, wanting the warmth and comfort of another person, but she swatted his hands away, keeping firmly to her side of the bed.

“You tossed and turned all night,” she complained irritably. “I’m going to have to use a bucket of eye concealer just to look presentable today.”

“Sorry,” Ben murmured, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Mmm,” Bazine shrugged, swinging her long legs from their bed and walking to a nearby mirror. “You never do when you’re here. You should go and see Dr Edelstein; he’ll give you something to help you sleep.” 

“I don’t want anything to help me sleep.”

“Well, you should,” Bazine retorted. “If you don’t sleep,  _ I  _ don’t sleep. Honestly, every time we visit your mother, you’re exactly the same. A restless and gloomy insomniac. It drives me crazy. Your mother isn’t  _ that  _ bad, Ben.”

Ben watched as Bazine preened in front of the mirror, her hair a glossy mane, her skin smooth and soft. 

“Sorry,” he apologised. “I don’t know what it is about this place that gets me this way.”

“So, until you find out, see Dr Edelstein,” Bazine retorted sharply, running a brush through her hair. “Then at least I’ll get some rest whenever we’re here, and not spend all night watching you toss and turn.”

Ben nodded, glancing out of the window. The day was dark and gloomy, with grey skies hanging threateningly overhead. It had rained all night, and he could nearly smell the damp and earthy smell of the surrounding countryside. It was a smell he was familiar with, having grown up in this large, sprawling estate. It reminded him of his childhood, of marshmallows roasting over an open fire, of fresh caught fish wriggling on the line, of his father, standing despondently in the woods, staring up at an ominous sky.

_ “This is Ides weather, Ben,” Han said mournfully, kicking at the mud at his feet. “Bad things happen when the sky looks like this.” _

Han again. With a start, Ben sat up, mentally telling himself to get a grip. He looked back to Bazine, who was pulling a robe over her shoulders, clearly intent on showering in the connecting bathroom. Suddenly, Ben was overwhelmed with the sensation of not wanting to be left alone.

Bad things happened when he was left alone.

“Come back to bed,” he pleaded softly. “I’ll make last night up to you. And it's Saturday... we don’t have to be anywhere today.” 

Slowly, Bazine turned to look at him, ice in her eyes. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked, her tone rigid and stiff with disapproval. “Our wedding planners are here today, Ben. Remember? We have a lunch date with them and your mother in the summerhouse just after one.”

Ben fell back on his pillows, exhaling hard. “Right. The wedding planners. I forgot,” he murmured tiredly.

“You forgot?” Bazine was clearly incredulous. “They’re the reason we’re here, Ben. How could you forget?”

Ben shrugged by way of response. It seemed easier and less likely to cause an argument to do that than to say,  _ I didn’t forget, I just don’t really care.  _ Not that it really mattered. Bazine was searching through her hand luggage for her toiletries, completely lost in her own world.

“Your mother is the one insisting that we get married in that wilderness out there,” she carried on, without any attempt to conceal the bitterness poisoning her words. “I wanted the Plaza. Or, at the very least, the Capitale. But no. I get a wedding in the woods in upstate New York shit sticks central.”

“It’s tradition,” Ben said blankly. “My grandparents were married in those woods. My parents were married there... now it's my turn.”

“You don’t need to tell me again, I said yes, didn’t I?” Bazine snapped. “Well, at least I get to choose the wedding planners myself. If I have to be married out there in the mud, we’re going to do it  _ my  _ way, with style.”

“The wedding planners,” Ben mused, standing with a sigh and pulling a towel around his waist. “Who are they again?”

Bazine gave him another one of her icy stares. “Queen and Hux Weddings,” she informed him tightly. “I told you about them before. They’re British. Up and coming and  _ very _ exclusive.”

“Expensive?” Ben asked, and watched as Bazine laughed, a mean little sound that made him wince. Laughter was supposed to be happy, he thought. It wasn’t supposed to sound like  _ that,  _ a mean, self-satisfied and ugly sound. 

Abruptly, Ben recalled the sound of another laugh. In his mind he saw a smile, wide and cat-like, spread across two cheeks dusted with freckles. He saw the crinkles at the corners of two hazel eyes. He heard the sound of happiness fill the air, like a warm breeze washing over you on a summer’s day. The memory made his heart beat faster and his stomach knot with pain, and he looked down, clutching his towel in his hand. 

“Criminally so,” Bazine replied flippantly. “But it's all on your mother’s purse strings, so who cares? We struck a deal, your mother and I. We get married out there in the forest without complaint, and she stumps up for the cost of the wedding.”

“Right,” Ben nodded, but his eyes were blank. He was still caught in the past, still locked on a memory. “Right.”

“Ben.”

Bazine’s voice was like a bucket of cold water being thrown over him, and Ben looked up, instantly feeling guilty. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Bazine asked, and for the first time that morning, he could hear concern in her words.

“Yeah,” he replied through a dry mouth, swallowing hard, and Bazine looked at him keenly.

“You aren’t going to mess today up for me, are you?” she asked worriedly. “Queen and Hux... I really, really want them to plan my wedding, Ben. If you ruin this for me...”

“I won’t ruin anything,” Ben said instantly. “I promise.”

Bazine stared at him for a long moment, her eyes hard, like two black diamonds glittering in the light. Finally, she nodded. “See that you don’t,” she told him sternly. “Queen and Hux are going to put my wedding on the map. It will be the most talked about event of the year, if not the decade.”

“Yes,” Ben agreed, even though a small voice inside him, the one he tried to keep hidden when Bazine was present, instantly spoke up.  _ It’s meant to be our wedding, not just hers,  _ the voice whispered.  _ Why do you let her walk all over you like this?  _

Wrenching himself away from an unpalatable train of thought, Ben dropped his towel, moving to the wardrobe and pulling out an old sweater and pair of jeans. He could feel Bazine’s eyes watching him, and when he turned, she gestured accusingly to the clothes he had chosen for the day.

“Really?” she asked coolly. “Those rags?”

“I need to clear my head,” Ben told her. “Maybe get up into the sky.”

“Ben—”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “Only for a few hours. I’ll make sure I’m back and changed in time for... King and Hugs... or...”

“ _ Queen and Hux,”  _ Bazine said tightly. “Fine. But make sure you are back here and pristine by one o’clock. I won’t have you embarrassing me today, Ben.”

He nodded as he pulled the sweater over his head. The heavens were dark, and heavy with the promise of coming rain, but he knew that above the clouds lay blue sky and bright sunshine, and he suddenly longed for both. He would fire up his Dad’s old plane, take a quick flight into the sun, before coming back down to the dark.

“I’ll see you soon,” he told Bazine, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. 

She waved him away. “While you’re out, don’t forget to call my father back,” she said. 

Ben stopped, repressing the urge to shudder. “Your father?” he asked, his mouth dry. Myron Netal, Bazine’s father, was a force to be reckoned with. Just as ruthless and cutthroat as his daughter, he was sharp as a tack and just as critical. “Why?”

“He invited you to his poker night,” Bazine replied. “It’s a big deal, Ben. He doesn’t invite just  _ anyone.  _ Make sure you go. Many of Daddy’s best and most successful business associates will be there. It will be the perfect chance for you to network.”

Poker. Ben inhaled sharply as another memory seized hold of him, and he struggled with the wistful pang of regret that began to creep down his spine.

_ A small hand with long fingers, elegant and tanned. He watches as her hand deliberates over the pack, before she chews down on her lip, indicating to a card. She pulls it from the deck, glancing at it surreptitiously, before sliding it back to him.  _

_ “Alright then,” she says, in her beautiful British voice. “Do your trick, magician man.” _

_ He grins at her, before shuffling the cards in his hands. “This one is too easy,” he tells her smoothly. “You chose a queen.” _

_ Her mouth gapes open, and she stares at him. “How did you...?” _

_ “Of course you chose a queen,” he shrugs. “Look at you. You’re like a queen yourself.” _

_ She blushes, but doesn’t meet his eyes, refusing to be won over immediately by his praise. He likes that. Likes how hard-won her blushes and smiles have been. The more he has to work for them, the more he feels them when she rewards him with a shy smile, or a tinge of pink to her cheek. _

_ “Which queen?” she presses him, waiting to see if he fails. _

_ “You picked the best one,” he replies, with another warm smile. “The queen of spades.” _

_ She gapes at him again, before sitting back, staring at him hard. “You must have cheated. There’s no way you could have known which card I chose.” _

_ He shrugs at her. “It’s an old party trick,” he says, shuffling the cards again.  _

_ “Who taught you?” _

_ “My father,” he replies, before shaking his head, refusing to be drawn on that topic. “You chose a good card.” _

_ He watches as she considers his words. “You said she was the best queen? The spades?” _

_ He nods. _

_ “I thought she was the unlucky queen. The worst of the deck. Surely the queen of diamonds, or hearts, would be a more fortuitous choice?” _

_ He shakes his head. “Do you know in early card decks that the queen of spades represented Pallas Athene, the Greek goddess of wisdom? She’s tricky, the queen of spades. Beautiful, wise, serene... but tricky. There are entire games dedicated just to her. Games where people spend their time chasing her, seeking her, searching her out. The queen of hearts... the queen of diamonds... even the queen of clubs, in her way... they’re all worth points. They’re good cards to keep to hand. But the Queen of Spades? She’s something special. Something different. She’s my favourite,” he adds, watching that amazing blush spread over her cheeks again. He pulls a card from the deck, sliding it back to her. “See? Best of the deck.” _

_ He looks on, amused, as she looks at the card, delighted by the amazement crossing her face as she sees the Queen of Spades smiling up at her. She looks over to him, chewing on her lip once more, almost weighing up her next move. _

_ “I’m keeping this,” she decides, slipping the playing card into her bag. “Now you can’t trick any other women at nearly deserted airports into playing games with you.” _

_ He sits back, dropping the deck of cards and taking her in once more. Hazel eyes. A wide smile. Long brown hair. Something in his stomach stirs and his heart picks up tempo. _

_ He smiles at her. “Keep it,” he agrees. “I think I’m done playing games with other women. When you find your queen... you just know.” _

Ben looked down, and found that his fists were clenched. He made a point of relaxing them, of stretching them out, of pushing memories back into the past where they belonged. Taking a deep breath, he gave Bazine a long look.

“I’m not going to poker night,” he told her, his voice for once firm and unyielding. “I don’t play cards.”

***

__

He found his mother on the deck near the lake, a coffee in her hand, already dressed in her finest with her grey-brown hair artfully styled. She was staring out over the water, and Ben came up behind her, giving her a quick hug and kiss and laughing when she spluttered into her coffee.

“Ben! You frightened the life out of me, sneaking up like that,” she chastised him, and he grinned, leaning against a nearby wall.

“Too good an opportunity to miss, sorry Mom,” he apologised. 

His mother looked him up and down, taking in his old clothes with a careful eye. “You look good,” she decided. “You arrived late last night. Sorry I didn’t wait up for you.”

Ben shrugged. “Had some work to finish up before the weekend, and then Bazine insisted on stopping back at the apartment to grab some extra clothes before we set off. She’s in a bit of a state about these wedding planners today.”

“Hmm,” Leia mused, looking annoyed. “You mean the wedding planners I had to pay to fly over from London, even before we’ve agreed to hire them?”

“Bazine has already hired them in her mind,” Ben replied, but he felt a small dart of embarrassment, and looked down. “I’m trying to make this special for her.”

“They better be damned special, at the price I’m paying,” Leia retorted.

“Mom—”

“Oh, I’m going to foot the bill and not complain...  _ much _ ,” she added, with the raise of one impeccable eyebrow. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with Ackbar Events. We’ve been using them for decades, Ben. Every family event and occasion, they’ve been there, reliable as the tide. How is it going to look when I have to send Gial an invitation to your wedding which has been planned by these... these  _ Brits? _ ”

“It’s going to look like you’re inviting an old friend to my wedding,” Ben replied. “I love Gial too, Mom. But Bazine... she’s a modern girl, you know?”

“And what am I, a relic?” Leia asked sardonically, before giving Ben a rueful smile. “Don’t answer that. Well, I take it by your attire you’re heading up before we all head out?”

“Quick flight, I promise.”

“Make it a long one and we can cancel the wedding,” Leia quipped, before seeing Ben’s stern face and giving a shrug. “Alright, no more of that. Have Chewie give that plane a good look over before you head up in it, okay? It hasn’t been flown since you were last here.”

Ben nodded. “I will.”

Leia sighed. “So... what am I supposed to do with Bazine all morning while you’re off on a jaunt?”

“Talk to her. Make nice with her. Maybe plan the wedding with her,” Ben suggested. 

Leia frowned. “All I’m allowed to do for this wedding is sign the cheques,” she said regretfully. 

“Hey,” Ben gave her a gentle nudge. “We’re getting married in the woods at least, like you wanted.”

Leia nodded. “Well yes, there is that. And I suppose I could mention Luke to Bazine...”

Ben blanched. “Uncle Luke? Why? What does he want?”

“Well, you know how he’s a man of the cloth these days...”

Ben held up a hand, stopping her. “I know exactly where this conversation is going, Mother. And I already told you, I can’t ask Bazine to let my crazy—”

“Hey!” Leia protested, but without conviction.

“— loopy, off-the-radar uncle marry us. I can’t do it. I won’t. She’ll never agree.”

“Maybe not to you, but if I throw in, say, an all-expenses paid honeymoon to a five star destination somewhere in the world, Bazine might be more amenable.”

“It worries me, Mom, that you think you can buy my fiancée’s conformity like that.”

“And it worries me that you persist in believing that I can’t.”

“Mom—”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything,” Leia said brusquely. “I don’t like the woman and I’m never going to, and I don’t understand why you plan on marrying her.”

“I’ve been with Bazine for a long time,” Ben replied with a shrug.

“Exactly. Maybe you should try dating other women; you don’t know what you’re missing, Ben.”

Ben felt that old pang of wistfulness start to rise up, and he swallowed hard.  _ He knew exactly what he was missing. _

“I’m going up,” he said shortly, watching as his mother’s face fell. “I’ll see you at one o-clock. Try not to bite my fiancée’s head off while I’m out, hey?”

“Ben, I’m sorry,” Leia said mournfully. “You know me. You know I can’t hold back my opinions.”

“Try,” Ben pleaded. “For my sake, try.”

Leia nodded, looking back out over the lake. “I promise. The wedding planners are here, by the way. Credit where credit is due, they came straight here off their trans-Atlantic flight. No one is going to say they’re workshy, at least.”

“Good,” Ben nodded. He knew his mother appreciated people with a good work ethic. “They seem nice?”

Leia shrugged. “I haven’t met them yet. Apparently they wanted to head straight out to the venue, so they could work on their  _ artistic vision, _ ” Ben watched as Leia struggled not to roll her eyes. “Anyway, Mr Threepio took them straight out to the woods. They’ll meet us at one for lunch. I got a brief glimpse of them. They seem like clean cut, reliable people.”

“That will make Bazine happy.”

“Hmm,” Leia made a non-committal sound. “The girl who came... she’s very pretty. Even from a distance, I could see that. Reminded me of your grandmother, in a way.”

“Which one?”

“My mother. My birth one.”

“The one you never met,” Ben replied.

“True enough,” Leia nodded. “But I have her photographs. She was a striking woman, and this girl today... I don’t know what it is, Ben, but I thought of my mother when I saw her. That doesn’t often happen.”

“You’re just in a mood because of the wedding,” Ben suggested. He thought of his own dreams the night before, of Han on his mind. “Weddings do strange things to people.”

Leia nodded again. “Maybe so. Well, off you go with you. Enjoy the skies. But don’t be late or Bazine will probably kill you, and if she doesn’t I probably will if you leave me alone with that woman too long.”

“I won’t be late,” Ben promised, as he turned in the direction of the old plane hangar.

“And Ben?” Leia called out, and he turned back to her. “Be careful,” she warned. “The sky’s so dark... Ides weather, your father used to say—”

“I know,” Ben swallowed. “I’ll be careful.”

“It was wet yesterday, but not dark like this,” Leia continued, glancing up at the swirling clouds overhead with a frown. “Your wedding planners arrive and a storm starts brewing...”

“Mom,” Ben gave a wry smile. “You’re starting to sound like Uncle Luke, all superstition and nonsense...”

Leia smiled. “I’m not saying it's a  _ sign  _ or anything, but it can’t be a coincidence that they arrived and then darkness followed. Maybe it's not even Bazine... maybe it's the wedding planners themselves who are going to be the problem.”

But Ben shook his head, giving his mother another fond smile. “Mom, relax,” he reassured her. He stood taller, pushing his hands into his pockets. “The wedding planners aren’t going to be a problem. I promise.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... Leia and Bazine meet the wedding planners. And Rey learns more about the groom to be.


	3. The Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author plays an ace hidden up her sleeve*

Ten minutes into lunch with Bazine and her prospective mother-in-law and Rey was just about ready to admit defeat. Discomfort sat heavily in the air, weighted down by Bazine’s tightly leashed fury and the groom’s mother’s all-too-evident disapproval, and Rey sipped at the glass of white wine that had been put in front of her, trying to settle the knot of unease that was slowly growing in her stomach. 

Hux was trying his best, Rey knew. He sat beside Bazine, elegant and poised, playing his role of English gentleman with aplomb. He was all charm and suave style and simpering compliments for the bride, who licked them up like a show pony at the trough. Hux knew how to play Bazine; knew to be friendly enough to win her trust while being just out of reach enough to leave her wanting more. Watching Hux charm a bride was like watching an artist at work, Rey always thought, but today his work was spoiled, soured by a disapproving mother-in-law and an inexplicably absent groom.

“I’m sorry,” Bazine apologised, in her sharp American twang. “I told him to be here. He knew how important this meeting was to me. I can’t believe he’s late.” 

“Oh, darling, it’s nothing,” Hux purred, with a wave of his hand. “You know, sometimes it's better if the groom  _ isn’t _ here. Quite often they just get in the way. Besides, Mum’s here, isn’t she?”

He gestured to the groom’s mother, and Rey saw Leia stiffen, her face like stone. “ _ Mum _ ?” she repeated icily.

Hux reddened. “Well, yes... in Britain, we always refer to the mother of the bride or groom as Mum. It’s a compliment, in a way.”

“Well, you aren’t in Britain now,” Leia replied, her voice as sharp as the wine in Rey’s glass. “So I would appreciate it if you addressed me as Ms. Organa.”

_ Organa.  _ Something in Rey’s mind stirred, the edge of a memory within grasp, and she frowned, staring at Leia openly.

“Can I help you?” Leia asked her, and now it was Rey’s turn to blush. 

“Oh, no, it’s nothing—”

“You’ve been quiet,” Leia mused, still staring at Rey with hard, unflinching eyes. “You let him do all the talking,” she added, glaring openly at Hux. 

“Well, he’s the client manager,” Rey explained. 

Leia only stared at her harder, and Rey squirmed in her seat. “He’s the client manager?” Leia asked. “Fine. So, tell me, what do you do in this...” she gestured to the air between Rey and Hux, “...outfit?”

Rey cleared her throat. “I’m the artistic director,” she said weakly. “I plan the visuals of the wedding. Colour scheme, aesthetics, table settings...”

“Really?” Leia asked her coolly. “And what does Bazine, the bride, plan in all of this? Does she get a say at all?”

“Oh, yes,” Rey replied instantly, sitting up taller. Where her work was concerned, she was always the consummate professional. “I take all of my cues from the bride. Quite often, brides know exactly what they want for their wedding, they just don’t know how to make that vision a reality. That’s where I step in. I take their ideas and source all the pieces, putting them together like a puzzle to make a perfect day.”

Leia nodded, although Rey knew she was unconvinced. “I see,” she said slowly. “And you’ve seen the woods now, I take it? What did you, as the  _ artistic director,  _ make of them?”

“Well, it’s a raw setting for a wedding,” Rey replied honestly, taking another sip of wine. “But I think we have a plan that might work. Of course, I’d like to speak to Bazine and...” she trailed away awkwardly, suddenly at a loss for the groom’s name.

“Ben,” Leia filled in icily, and Rey blushed.

“Yes, of course,  _ Ben.  _ I’d like to speak with them both and get a feel for how they see their special day.”

“I want it big,” Bazine piped up, “I want the best of the best. Exquisite food, a French patisserie cake, champagne, and a bespoke Poe Dameron dress on my back.”

Hux spluttered into his wine, and Rey shot him a look. “You want a Dameron dress?” he asked, wiping his mouth, and Bazine nodded.

“Of course,” Bazine replied emphatically. “Poe Dameron is the biggest wedding dress designer of our generation. I told you, I want the best of the best. And Poe Dameron is the best.”

Hux seemed to recover himself, sliding a hand across the table to take hold of Bazine’s fingers. “Yes, my darling, but Poe Dameron has a four year waiting list for bespoke wedding gowns. If you’re determined, we could probably alter one of his collection gowns for you, but a bespoke dress is quite impossible.”

“But I want one,” Bazine pouted. “And I know you’ve worked with him... look...” from her bag, Bazine drew out a copy of French Vogue. Internally, Rey groaned. She knew that magazine, and knew exactly which article Bazine had read. It was a four page spread on Poe’s gowns, modelled by the newest supermodel, with photographs by Gwendolyn Phasma. She remembered Poe coming back from the shoot, casually mentioning to her and Hux that he’d mentioned their business in the magazine, at which point Hux had exploded.

“It’s tacky to tout for business in  _ Vogue _ , Poe,” he’d shouted. 

“It’s  _ Vogue, _ ” Poe had shrugged, completely perplexed. “The whole magazine is wall to wall adverts. I thought I was doing you a favour, Huxie.”

“A favour?! A fuc—” quickly, Rey shot Hux a stern look, and he took a deep breath. “A  _ fudging  _ favour?” he restrained himself. “I don’t mind when you send your brides in our direction, Poe. A casual mention here and there is one thing, but a full blown call-out in  _ Vogue  _ is quite another. We’re meant to be a classy, exclusive establishment. Not a tacky, grubbing-for-business—”

“ _ Vogue  _ is classy and exclusive!” Poe yelled. “Why do you think they wanted me?”

“Oh, let’s not get too big for our britches, shall we?” Hux retorted, and Rey watched as Poe stepped towards Hux, his anger no longer explosive but smouldering.

“You  _ like  _ the fact that I’m too big for my britches, Huxie.”

“That’s it,” Rey interjected, standing and gathering her things. “We’re leaving.”

Both Poe and Hux spun to look at her, guilt flashing across their faces. “No, honey,” Poe cleared his throat. “You can’t leave. I brought back apricot nectar from Paris. We’re going to have  _ poulet aux abricots et riz sauvage _ tonight.”

Now, Rey watched with dismay as Bazine passed the magazine to Hux, whose face was pale. 

“You want this dress?” he asked, pointing to a frothy white number, and Bazine’s face lit up.

“That’s the one,” she squealed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Hux nodded slowly. “She wants a Dameron dress, Rey.”

“Of course, I’d like to make some changes,” Bazine carried on. “But that’s easy enough, right?”

For a moment Hux was silent, and Rey could see him mentally weighing up his options in his head. Turn Bazine down, and risk losing their biggest potential client to date, as well as their move into the North American market, or call his husband and ask for a monumental favour, sealing the deal on this wedding.

“We can probably organise something,” Hux said quietly. “I should tell you, Poe Dameron is actually my husband.”

For a moment, both Leia and Bazine were quiet. But it was only for a moment, when Bazine squealed, throwing her arms around Hux and hugging him tightly.

“You had one of those gay weddings?” she asked excitedly, and Hux shrugged.

“Well, we had a  _ wedding, _ ” he clarified. 

“Well, this is just  _ perfect,”  _ Bazine clapped her hands. “Now you can get me my dress. And obviously I’ll want Gwendolyn Phasma to take the photographs, so...”

At that, Rey held up a hand. “You want Phasma too?”

“Well, yes, obviously. I told you, I want the best of the best.”

“Phasma is... very difficult,” Rey began slowly, but Bazine shrugged.

“If you can get me my Dameron dress, you can get me Gwendolyn Phasma.”

Rey paused. She hadn’t been lying; Phasma was difficult, in every sense of the word. But she glanced at Hux, who nodded slowly. Clearing her throat and breathing deeply, aware of Leia Organa’s sharp eyes upon her, she gave Bazine a soft smile.

“She’s also horrifically expensive,” Rey carried on, “we know so many other photographers who are just as good, and—”

“I don’t want good,” Bazine cut in, her tone suddenly razor-sharp. “I want the  _ best.  _ Why isn’t she listening to me?” she whined to Hux, who tutted and gave Bazine a good-natured pat on the shoulder.

“Rey, darling, if Bazine here wants Phasma, we’ll get her Phasma,” he said. “After all, if the wedding is going to be on...” he glanced at his notebook surreptitiously, “October 29th next year, then...”

“This year,” Bazine corrected him, and Rey’s mouth dropped open. “Ben and I want to get married this year.”

“But that’s... seven weeks away,” Rey stuttered. “We can’t get Phasma in seven weeks. We can’t get a Dameron bespoke dress in seven weeks. We can’t do anything in just seven weeks.”

Next to her, Rey heard Leia give a satisfied sigh. “Oh dear, never mind. Well, we’ll just get in our usual event planners then. I’m sure they can organise a wedding in the woods in seven weeks.”

But Hux sat bolt upright, shaking his head emphatically. “No. We can do it.”

Rey stared at him in disbelief. “ _ Hux, _ ” she intoned. “We just can’t. Phasma, maybe, is a possibility, if we call in the world’s biggest favour... but Poe? He has other brides. We can’t just swoop in and disrupt his timetable like that,” she turned to Leia and Bazine, shaking her head. “Bazine, I’m sorry, but getting a bespoke Dameron dress in seven weeks is impossible. We couldn’t get one for love nor money, and trust me, Hux here can try both.”

“But I want one,” Bazine said sharply. “And I always get what I want.”

Dislike for this woman, hot and intense, suddenly slid down Rey’s spine. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to reply, when Hux piped up.

“If you want one, my darling, we’ll get you one.”

“ _ Hux, _ ” Rey exhaled, shocked. “You can’t promise that.”

“Look, if we fly Poe out here tomorrow, start the fittings right away, get the fabric ordered, it's not impossible.”

Rey shook her head. “He has other responsibilities, Hux.”

Hux shrugged. “He can put one of his junior designers to work on the other brides for a few days. So long as he’s there for their final fittings they won’t even know he didn’t work on their gowns personally.”

Rey stared at him through narrowed eyes, hoping against hope he would read through her words. “No. He has  _ other  _ responsibilities, Hux.”

Hux suddenly startled, clearly understanding her, while Leia frowned.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What other responsibilities? He’s a wedding dress designer.”

Hux smiled at Leia pleasantly. “Oh, I’m sorry, this is more of a... personal matter, and Rey and I, well, we don’t like our personal lives to ever impact on our business. We have a good work ethic.”

Leia opened her mouth to reply, but Bazine cut in. “I want a bespoke Dameron dress,” she said, sounding dangerously close to stamping her feet. “So I don’t care what personal shit you two have got going on... I want him here, this week, for my first fitting.”

At that, Rey stood. “I’m sorry,” she said. “On this we’re quite firm. Poe Dameron has other responsibilities, and if we’re going to plan this wedding, there is no way we can get him here.”

Hux also stood, abruptly pulling on Rey’s arm. “One moment, darlings,” he chirped to Bazine and Leia, before leading Rey to the side. “Are you fucking insane?” he hissed at her. “We can’t turn this wedding down.”

“We can’t get Poe here,” Rey insisted. “You know that. And I can’t be here for seven weeks. A few days here and there, yes, but seven whole weeks? I can’t be away from her for that long.”

“Yes, I know,” Hux said. “Fuck, I wish I could smoke right now.”

“Well you can’t.”

Rey watched as Hux took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Hear me out.”

Rey shook her head. “No, don’t say what I think you’re about to.”

“Rey,” Hux said patiently. “So Poe brings her with him.”

Rey shook her head. “No, she has school, she has—”

“Honey, listen,” Hux was using his calmest, most sincere voice, and Rey chewed on her lip, willing to hear him out if nothing else. “School doesn’t begin for what... six days? Poe brings her tomorrow, does the first fitting, gets the dress started, and flies back with her. Or you can. We can work a schedule out so one of us is always at home. And the wedding is October 29th, which is half-term. We can all be here that week with her. This can work, Rey.”

Rey took a deep breath, magazine at Hux intently. “She’s my baby, Hux,” she said softly. “Flying all this way... with school about to start...”

“She’s seven-years-old,” Hux replied calmly. “We’ll give her that iPad she’s been banging on about since Christmas. She’ll be fine. It’ll be like a holiday for her.”

Rey chewed on her lip. “I don’t know...”

“Please Rey,” Hux whispered. “We need this wedding. We need this business.”

Rey sighed. “We don’t really,” she said softly. “But I know how much you want it.”

“Look at this place,” Hux said, gesturing around them to the sprawling estate, the stately manor, and the glass summerhouse. “This is new money at it's finest, and I’d like a piece of it.”

“Alright,” Rey agreed. “Okay.”

Hux stopped, looking down at Rey with concern. “Rey,” he said gently. “Poe and I love that girl like she’s our own. I would never do anything that might adversely affect her, you know that.”

Rey nodded. “I know.”

“This can work, for all of us,” Hux continued. “I’ll put your daughter at the front of all the plans we make, Rey. I adore her. Poe and I have been like the father she doesn’t have. Now come on, let’s give Bazine the happy news.”

But at that, Rey shook her head. “She has a father,” she reminded Hux. “He’s coming back for me.”

Hux nodded, but Rey could see from the look on his face that he didn’t believe her.

And sometimes, when she was at her very lowest, she didn’t believe herself either.

***

The last time Ben had been in a plane that stalled, his father had been in the cockpit. Sitting in the back of the aircraft, Ben had heard his father shouting and swearing, a litany of curses falling from his lips as he rebuked the plane for failing him. But Han was nothing if not an accomplished pilot, and he’d watched, completely unfazed, as his father started the usual stall procedure. Nose down, increase engine power, level the wings, pull up. Through wide eyes, Ben heard and felt the plane respond to his father’s methodical flying, and when the plane levelled and began flying at full power once more, Han gave him a wide smile.

“She never lets me down, kid,” he said to Ben with a wink, before giving his full attention back to the plane. 

When they were on the ground once more, Han had slung an arm around Ben’s shoulders as they walked away from the hangar. “You can always recover from a stall,” he explained. “Sometimes it's just one of those things. Sometimes it's just a bump in the road. But if you keep your head, you can always get back to where you need to be. Remember that, okay?”

Over the years, Ben had been through many stalls. He’d experienced more bumps in the road than he cared to remember. The biggest bump of them all — his years of working for Snoke — he tried not to recall at all. His father’s death was another bump, just another stall. 

He recovered from them all. Nose down, full throttle, level wings, pull up, fly once more. Every stall in life was always the same. Han had been right... all Ben had to do was keep his head, and all would be fine. 

The only time he hadn’t kept his head was when he’d been presented with a hazel pair of eyes and two pinks lips curved in a smile, a smile that was only for him. Ben lost his head and his heart in a big way then, and he’d never really recovered. Nose down, full throttle, level wings, pull up and fly... for the first time in his life, it hadn’t worked. Some stalls, it seemed, you couldn’t recover from.

He didn’t know why, but when Han’s plane stalled that morning, with Ben flying solo in the cockpit, he thought of Rey. As the blue sky dipped away, and the plane glided without an engine into the dark clouds, dangerously out of control, her face crossed his mind. 

The ground loomed before him, getting closer and closer with every passing second, and all Ben saw was Rey. He steered the plane as best he could, knowing he would crash, with her face in his mind. 

_ “If I’m your queen of spades, what does that make you?” she asks him one night, her head turned in his direction. She’s naked, just a sheet draped over her legs, lying on her front with her hair falling over her shoulders like a Botticelli angel. He sweeps it away, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blades, sighing warm against her skin. “The king?” she suggests with a smile. _

_ But he shakes his head. “Not the king,” he says, _

_ “The knight then,” Rey suggests, “protecting the queen in her castle.” _

_ He shakes his head once more. “Nope. Not the knight either.” _

_ “The ace?” she laughs. “Or... I don’t know... the seven? The eight? Tell me.” _

_ He grins back at her, pulling her into his arms and rolling on top of her. He presses his lips to hers, marvelling once more at the feel of her in his arms. She’s soft and warm and lovely and his, and each and every one of these facts is like a small miracle to him. “The joker, the fool,” he tells her, and she laughs. _

_ “You do yourself a disservice,” she smiles. “You aren’t the fool.” _

_ “But I am, where my queen is concerned,” he replies, laying his head on her shoulder and breathing in the smell of her. “Always the fool, now and forever and always.” _

_ “I don’t want you to be a fool for me,” Rey whispers softly, and he sighs.  _

_ “But I am. And I always will be, Rey.” _

When he realised his father’s plane wasn’t just stalling but was in full engine failure, Ben prepared for impact. Nose up, level the wings. The ground was close, and he was hurtling towards it at speed. From his pocket he pulled out a card, and glanced at it quickly.

The fool. Faded, old and creased in places, as well as worn where he’d stroked it thoughtfully over the years, but still undeniably obvious. Even now, at the very worst of times, it made him smile.

And so, with a card clutched in his hand and Rey’s face in his mind, Ben braced for impact, still the fool, now and forevermore. 

__

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A treat for you all next time with my first ever Leia POV chapter.


	4. Tea Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, let the soap opera continue.

On Leia Organa’s wedding day to Han Solo, her mother-in-law gifted her with a tea set. Jaina Solo, blonde and brashy with the proverbial heart of gold, had clearly put thought and time into her choice of gift, and presented it to her new daughter-in-law with a proud smile and flush on her over-blushed cheeks.

“It’s a pretty pattern, isn’t it?” Jaina enthused, holding one of the delicate tea cups up to the light. “Could be an antique.”

The white china was painted with a gold, pink and blue flower motif, gaudy and old-fashioned, which made Leia cringe. Eight cups and eight saucers, all identical, a set, Jaina added with a knowing wink at the slight curve to Leia’s belly, “to pass on as a heirloom, one of these days.”

To say Leia hated the tea-set was an understatement. She actively  _ despised  _ it. Leia had been through a tumultuous few years, a time when her rebellious teenage phase morphed into an experimental college phase which then morphed into a business-first adult mindset. Her idealistic optimism gave way to a hard-hearted ruthlessness, a determination to take the inheritance of her family and improve upon it. She was the Skywalker heir, after all — her brother Luke having rebelled into his way into a religious calling from which he never returned — and it was left to her capable hands to take the shattered legacy of her family name and return it to the hallowed heights she believed it deserved. And so Leia worked, and she worked hard. She grafted and grifted and Han... well, he was supposed to be the antithesis of all that. He was meant to be merely a throwback to her carefree youth, the inappropriate boyfriend her father hated, which perversely made Leia want him more. He was meant to be rough and ready, an itch to scratch before she moved on to more suitable pastures, and to find herself both pregnant by him and then married to him caused Leia’s world to spin on its axis. What she had planned to be merely a whirlwind romance turned into a perpetual storm of a marriage, and Jaina’s tea set — that tacky, over-decorated, cheap pile of plates — represented everything Leia hated about what her life had become.

It wasn’t that Leia was unhappy, because she was pragmatic and practical and always made the best of any situation. She knew that with Han she had made her bed and so decided to sleep in it; even if life with the scruffy pilot wasn’t all feather-pillows and satin sheets, it was still good quality cotton and she was content with that. And Ben... well, Ben was the highlight of Leia’s marriage, and both she and Han knew it. She found it hard to look into her child’s big brown eyes and regret any of the decisions and choices that had led her to him.

Jaina’s tea set sat in a glass cabinet in the least used of Leia’s three dining rooms, hidden in a corner and mostly ignored. During her worst arguments with Han, Leia had been tempted to shatter the cups and saucers one by one, hurling them against a wall and watching that hideous pattern of replica Victorian flowers turn into a whole new kind of mosaic. But she’d always resisted the temptation, knowing deep down that the guilt she would feel for destroying Jaina’s well-meaning gift would far outweigh any satisfaction she would gain. Besides, Leia told herself, one day —  _ one day  _ — those cups and saucers could be passed on to her own daughter-in-law. It was only fitting, Leia thought. Jaina had wanted them to be a heirloom, and what better legacy for her son’s wife than the china that represented the shotgun marriage that culminated in his arrival.

It was a surprise to Leia, that morning then, when she called for the teaset to be brought out and cleaned. 

“Have tea served in them at lunch,” Leia asked Mr. Threepio, her faithful housekeeper.

He’d glanced at her in surprise. “But you never use this tea set.”

Leia nodded. “That’s true. But I want to give the set to Bazine,” she swallowed down a mouthful of bile. “Ben seems determined to marry her — God knows why — and I promised him I would try my best with her. Giving her this tea set feels like a good place to start.”

Threepio nodded. “So, tea and coffee served with this tea set at... two o’clock? An hour after lunch?”

Leia nodded. “Yes. Once the wedding planners are out of the way I’ll tell Bazine about my gift. She’s out for all she can get, that girl, so I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”

Threepio frowned at her. “Perhaps comments like those aren’t the best way to win your way into your prospective daughter-in-law’s heart?”

But Leia only shrugged. “I could care less about Bazine. No, I’m doing this for Ben,” she said firmly, holding her head high. “For Ben, and for the children he’ll one day have. I’m no fool, Threepio. I know Bazine’s type. As soon as she has Ben’s child in her arms she’ll make me pay through the nose for access to them. And I’ll pay it too. I know it, and so does she.”

It was the truth. Leia was widowed, somewhat retired and mostly bored, and had begun to realise all too late the things she had missed as a working wife and mother. She adored her son, but time-poor and work-rich, expensive nannies, schools and tutors had been substituted in place of herself. 

She’d missed Ben’s first steps. Missed his first word. She hadn’t been there for his first day of school or the night of his high school prom. It was only when he disappeared, falling into an all-too-typical Skywalker rebellion that history showed would only end in disgrace, an unplanned pregnancy or religious calling, that Leia realised — with a large stab of pain — just how much she missed him. 

When Ben returned at last, weary, sad, jaded and quiet, Leia worked hard to regain his trust and love. She was no fool; she knew something had happened to him in the years he’d been with Snoke. The boy who’d clamboured to pilot planes like his Daddy suddenly worked in finance. The boy who’d been all passion and feeling suddenly wanted to settle with Bazine. But mostly, the boy who’d been all smiles and joy suddenly seemed lifeless and tired, as though a heaviness weighed him down. Leia would give anything to fix him, to help him find that joy again. But all her efforts seemed only to push him further from her, and at last she gave up.

Ben would carry on working a job he hated. He would marry Bazine. He would live life as a disappointed man. These thoughts made Leia feel sick, but she consoled herself with one small, tiny ray of hope. That Ben might father children, and give both her and him a second chance at family life. 

Leia  _ itched  _ for a grandchild. A small boy or girl she could pour all her time and effort into. A child who would reap the rewards of her industrious youth. In one respect, she was thankful for Ben’s choice in Bazine. Bazine was a heartless, money-grubbing woman, no doubt about it, but she was also a woman who would be easily bribed. Always one to prepare ahead, Leia had already hired the services of a New York lawyer famed for child custody battles, ready to take down Bazine when Ben’s divorce inevitably hit for full access to his children. 

Leia had learnt the hard way that family came first, and she intended to put hers at the forefront forever more.

Not being an idiot, Leia kept these thoughts to herself. Bazine was vapid enough and stupid enough not to see beyond Leia’s tight smiles and vaguely hidden insults, and as they sat, discussing wedding plans with the people from  _ Queen and Hux Events,  _ she threw out several. Bazine missed every single one of them, her eyes and ears all for the red-haired wedding planner who sickeningly fawned over the bride, but the hazel-eyed girl next to him, quiet and thoughtful, glanced at Leia surreptitiously several times.

Rey Johnson was smart, Leia realised, watching the woman sip at her wine. In just ten minutes, Leia was very sure Rey had figured out exactly what the situation was here. And Leia, who appreciated people who were honest and without pretence, warmed to her instantly.

It wasn’t just that there was something familiar about Rey, Leia thought, watching the wedding planner pick at a small salad, although Rey had — without a doubt— more than a passing likeness to her own mother. No. There was something genuine about her, something true and down to earth, and Leia tried and failed to dislike her. The red-haired man, on the other hand, she detested. He was putting on an act, Leia knew, and simpering after Bazine’s approval in a way that Leia found she just couldn’t respect.  _ Queen and Hux  _ would plan this wedding, of that there was no doubt. Bazine wanted them, and what Bazine wanted, she invariably got. But that didn’t mean that Leia had to make it easy for the two wedding planners, who were probably twitching at the commission this wedding would make them. It was easy enough to dismiss the vile red-head — was he Queen or Hux or both? — but not so much the pretty brunette, who answered all of Leia’s questions with a clear voice and thoughtful mind. 

No. The more she talked the more Leia liked Rey Johnson.  _ And Ben would like her too,  _ a small voice piped up in Leia’s mind, which made her sit up in surprise. But it was a surprise that was short-lived when she realised it was the truth. Ben  _ would  _ like this girl. Leia suspected he would like her very much.

“Good news!” came the hair-raising sing-song voice of the red-head. “We’ve had a chat, a little moo moo sharoo, and we’ve decided we can do anything you want us to, darling,” Leia watched as he sank into the chair beside Bazine, who was clasping her hands together in excitement. “If you want Poe Dameron, your fairy Godmother here will make it happen. If you want Phasma, well, you’ve come to the right people.”

It made Leia want to be sick, the way Bazine embraced him, as if he was an old friend and not someone who had already mentally spent at least half a million dollars of Leia’s money. 

“And you can do everything in  _ seven  _ weeks?” Leia asked, emphasising once again the tight time frame.

“Oh, absolutely!” He gushed, still holding Bazine’s grasping hands. “Of course, it won’t be easy, or cheap Mum,” he winked at her. “But we can do everything this little sweetheart has set her eyes on.”

Leia nodded, reaching over to take a large swig of her own drink. She looked at Rey, who seemed slightly worried, a small crease in her forehead as she stared at her food.

“What was the issue?” Leia queried her. “What did you need to talk over?”

“Oh,” Rey blushed. “It was nothing. Hux and I have sorted it.”

“It took you a good ten minutes to work through that ‘nothing’,” Leia remarked. “Are you sure?”

Hux, who must have had ears like a bloodhound, looked up. “It was just a little issue about childcare. We worked it out though.”

Leia looked from Rey to Hux and back again in confusion. “You mean... the two of you have a child? But I thought this one was married to Poe Dameron?”

At that, Hux burst into laughter, and a small smile even graced Rey’s face. “Oh, no, Hux isn’t...” she paused. “I have a daughter,” she confessed. “She’s seven. I live in the flat next door to Hux and Poe, and Poe watches her for me whenever Hux and I are out on the wedding circuit.”

“ _ You _ have a seven-year-old?” Leia asked in disbelief, taking in Rey’s young features and slim frame. “I don’t mean to pry, but you can’t have been very old when you became a mother.”

“Twenty-one,” Rey admitted. 

Twenty-one, thought Leia with dismay. Too young to be a mother.

“Are you married? Or divorced? Or...”

At that question, Leia saw what she thought was a hint of pain cross over Rey’s pretty features. 

“No,” Rey said softly. “No. My daughter — her name is Reine — anyway, her father is... not on the scene. At the moment.”

There was something poignant in the girl’s words, so poignant and almost sad that Leia opened her mouth to speak before thinking the better of it. She didn’t want to pry into what was clearly a point of pain for someone.

But Bazine wasn’t quite so tactful. “What does that mean, ‘at the moment’?” she asked, and Leia wanted to groan.

“Oh, trust me, this is a can of worms you two don’t need to open,” Hux intoned playfully, “Let’s talk more about your wedding. So then Bazine, a veil, yay or nay?”

Leia eyed him sharply. But beneath his flippant tone, she was certain she could detect a kind of concern. Suddenly, she was convinced he was trying to move the conversation away from Rey and back to Bazine, and not out of deference to the bride, but out of concern for his colleague. 

Which, of course, made a vulture like Bazine only curious to know more.

“No, I want to know about Rey’s baby daddy,” Bazine smiled, tapping Hux’s fingers sharply, and Leia — sharp-eyed — saw Hux stiffen. So, he hated her too.

“Well, we only have seven weeks, darling,” he wheedled her. “We should really—”

But Rey suddenly cleared her throat, patting Hux’s shoulder gently. “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t mind talking about him.”

“Rey, are you—?”

But Bazine hushed him. “Let her talk.”

Rey gave a small shrug. “Honestly, Bazine, there isn’t really much to tell. I fell in love on my gap year. We had six months together. And then his father got sick and he had to leave and...” Rey trailed off, and Leia could see her trying to talk over what must have been a lump in her throat. “Anyway, he had to go, but he promised one day he would come back for me, and then I found out about Reine and...” she trailed off again, falling silent at the table.

“But didn’t you try to find him? Once you knew about the baby?” Bazine pushed her.

Rey nodded. “Yes. But there was just no trace of him. Not anywhere. All I had was a phone number which only ever led to a dial tone. It was like he just... disappeared.”

“He promised to come back but left you with a fake phone number?” Bazine raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “That’s not a man who’s coming back. That’s a man who got what he wanted and took off, honey.”

“Bazine,” hissed Leia under her breath, but Rey, rather than seeming bothered, actually smiled.

“He left me with something else,” she said, a note of pride in her voice. “He left me with something he treasured.”

“A diamond? An emerald?” Bazine asked excitedly.

“No... a playing card.”

Bazine rapidly seemed to deflate, clearly losing interest in the conversation, but at Rey’s words, Leia sat up.

“What do you mean, he left you with a playing card?”

“The Queen of Spades,” Rey said warmly, a smile on her lips as she spoke. “And not just any playing card, one that came from a deck that once belonged to a Queen of Alderaan.”

A shiver ran down Leia’s spine and she thought of Luke, of where he was and what he was doing, feeling a sudden, intense need to speak with him. 

“Alderaan?” Bazine queried, furrowing her brow. “Isn’t that the tiny principality in Europe that was wiped out after the second world war?”

“Yes,” Rey nodded. “I don’t know how he got the card but—”

“Tea, ma’am,” a voice interrupted, and Leia, taking deep, steadying breaths, watched as Mr. Threepio came towards them, laden down with a tray stacked with Jaina’s hideous tea set. Leia’s fingers remained clenched as Threepio set the tray down, ladling out cups and pouring out tea all the while making innocuous remarks about the dark weather. Abruptly, he seemed to notice the empty chair and remaining cup on his tray, and looked to Leia questioningly.

“Master Ben is not here?” he asked, and Bazine pouted.

“No,” she snapped. “He’s fucking late.”

Leia unclenched her fingers, only to find them shaking slightly. She picked up her tea, taking a small sip, trying to mask the uncertainty in her hand. “Get used to it,” she told Bazine. “You know what these pilots are like. Han was the same... once they get in the air they lose track of time.”

“Well, I’ll be sorting that out first, no mistake about it,” Bazine said tetchily, drinking her own tea. “He promised he would be here, and I’m going to be his wife. I should  _ always  _ come first.”

“Ben will be here, don’t worry,” Leia reassured her, before turning back to Rey. “Did you know the groom was named Ben? Have you met him yet?”

“I did know his name, but we haven’t met him yet. To be honest, after this tea we might head over to our hotel and freshen up. We need to call Poe too, get him over here—”

“With your daughter,” Leia said bluntly. “He’ll be bringing your daughter.”

“Umm, yes,” Rey said. “I’m sorry, it’s not very professional, I know, but—”

“Your daughter’s father,” Leia interrupted. She felt on the precipice of something big, of something huge, and she needed to  _ know.  _ “What was his name?”

Rey stared at her, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. “I don’t see why that matters.”

“I have contacts,” Leia lied on the spot. “They might be able to find him, you know. He was British like you, yes?”

Rey cleared her throat. “Actually no. He was American.”

There it was again, that slight rush to both Leia’s head and stomach. As the adrenaline running through her blood made her feel queasy, she picked up her tea, bringing the motif of pink flowers to her lips and taking a sip.

“American,” Leia breathed. 

“Yes,” Rey gave a small smile. “Definitely. From the way he spoke to the way he acted to his name... he had a strange name, not at all traditional like we Brits tend to stick to and—”

“What was his name?” Leia demanded, clenching her cup in her hand.

“Kylo,” Rey said simply. “Kylo Ren.”

The cup in Leia’s hand shattered, pink and blue flowers raining onto the tablecloth, tea spilling in every direction.

“Leia!” Bazine jumped up, brushing spots of tea from her immaculate white dress, while Leia sat there, her hands empty and shaking.

Rey reached over and took Leia’s hand. “Good God,” she exclaimed. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

For a moment, Leia stared into Rey’s kind, soft eyes. 

Kylo Ren. Seven years ago. They had six months.

And Rey had a baby.

“I’m fine,” Leia replied, a strange kind of calm running through her. “Although I should probably go and clean up.”

She watched as Rey and Hux exchanged looks. “Well, we should probably head to the hotel,” Hux said slowly. “As for contracts—”

“No hotel,” Leia announced. “You’ll need access to the bride and wedding venue. You can stay here.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t ask you to—”

“I’ll have rooms made up for you. And for Poe,” Leia said firmly. Her voice softened. “And for your daughter, Miss Johnson.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Rey said gently. “She’s very exuberant and—”

“A big old place like this could do with a young child about it,” Leia interrupted her. “I’ll have the rooms made up immediately, and as for contracts, I’ll sign one now.”

Hux stared at her. “We could run through it with you first if you like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Leia stood, dusting the remains of one of Jaina’s tea cups from her fingers. “I’ll sign them all and immediately transfer you your deposit. In fact, do you have the contract with you? I can sign it right now.”

Wordlessly, Hux pulled a pile of paperwork from his bag. “This is the standard contract,” he explained, “obviously I’ll send you an item-by-item breakdown of the expenses and—”

“Excellent,” Leia replied mindlessly, pulling out a pen and signing the contract in all the places Hux pointed out. 

Bazine looked delighted, turning to Hux and pulling him into a hug once more. But Leia only had eyes for Rey.

“Your daughter,” she started slowly. “You said her name was Reine?”

Rey blushed. She was very pretty, Leia realised. She could see why he had been taken with her. “Reine means queen, in French,” Rey explained. “But it’s also a combination of the sounds of Rey and Ren. I wanted him to have a say... even when he wasn’t there to.”

“You must have really loved him,” Leia said.

“Yes,” Rey replied. “He was everything to me.”

Something inside of Leia warmed to her words.  _ She still loved him _ , she realised.  _ She never stopped loving him. _

“Well, I am most assuredly looking forward to working with you, Miss Johnson, and—”

But Leia didn’t get a chance to finish her words. Bazine’s phone was ringing, and when she answered it, she went pale, clutching Hux.

“Leia,” Bazine called. “It’s Ben.”

“What about Ben?” Leia asked.

“He’s in the hospital,” Bazine replied, “His plane crashed.”

Leia fell back into her chair with a slump. “Is he... is he...?”

“No,” Bazine answered. “Only injured. But we need to get to him. Now.”

***

_ They’re in the Alps this week, in a tiny mountain village next to a ski resort. Snow falls from the sky and there is a cold snap to the air and he’s drunk on wine and cheese and bread and love. She pulls him from the restaurant on unsteady feet, leading him up a cobbled lane where fairy-lights twinkle above them. They go past their hotel until they are on the edge of the town, and then she is pulling him out into the snow, walking with him until the village is just a greeting-card image before him.  _

_ “You’ll make me catch my death,” he mutters when she collapses him into the snow.  _

_ “Of what?” she asks, smiling, and he pulls her into a kiss. _

_ “I don’t know,” he replies. “It was just something my mother used to say.” _

_ “Don’t you find it odd,” she begins, “how something so soft and welcoming can be so cold? This snow is like powder... or velvet. It wants you to snuggle into it.” _

_ “I’d rather go back to the hotel and snuggle into you,” he returns, and she sighs.  _

_ “Soon. I just want to take a moment.” _

_ The sky above them is littered with stars. So many, like white paint splattered over a black canvas. He lies back in the snow with her, hearing the sounds of the village nearby. She’s warm against him, the perfect size and shape for his body and hands, and he feels contentment slide through him. _

_ “What are we going to do?” he exhales, and she shrugs next to him. _

_ “I don’t know. Italy next, maybe?” _

_ “That wasn’t what I meant. I meant you and me. This.” _

_ She’s quiet for a moment. “It’s just one of those holiday romances, isn’t it?” _

_ “Is that what you want it to be?” he asks sharply, and she shakes her head. _

_ “No.” _

_ “Me neither.” _

_ They fall quiet again, their breath intermingling in the cold air above.  _

_ “Come back with me,” he says softly, and she looks at him.  _

_ “Where?” _

_ “Home,” he says. “Come home with me.” _

_ “I can’t—” _

_ “You can.” _

_ She takes a deep breath. “I’ll need to apply for a visa, that takes time, it takes effort and money and—” _

_ “Marry me,” he offers, and she falls silent. “Marry me,” he says again. “And it won’t take any effort at all.” _

_ She looks at him again. Her eyes are like two wells of darkened honey in this light, and he could drink from them all night.  _

_ No. Not all night. For the rest of his life. _

_ “Marry me,” he says again, and she chews on her lip before she leans down to kiss him. _

_ “Okay,” she says. “Okay. I will.” _

_ He closes his eyes, pulling her tight against him, a wave of gratitude and thankfulness rolling over him. If this is happiness, he thinks, he never wants to open them again. He could live in this moment forever. _

***

When Ben opened his eyes, his mother loomed over him like a spectre of expectant agitation.

“I need to talk to you,” she said sharply, and he moaned.

“I’ve literally just woken up after crashing Dad’s plane,” he muttered. “Can we not talk later? My head hurts. Go and get a doctor.”

“The doctor already spoke to me,” Leia replied tetchily. “You’re fine. A bit banged up maybe, but in pretty good shape for a man who just fell out of the sky.”

“How’s the plane?” Ben asked.

"Salvageable," Leia replied. “That hunk of junk isn’t so easy to get rid of. Chewie’s already having it towed back to the hangar.”

“Great,” Ben said, closing his eyes again. “Can I have some pain relief now?”

“Later,” Leia snapped. “I want to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered. “You said as much already. What about?” Leia took a deep breath, and when Ben opened his eyes, she was pacing about his tiny hospital room. “Mom,” he complained. “You’re making me nervous.”

When Leia turned back, her eyes were black. “Growing up a Skywalker, you learn not to ask questions,” she began, and Ben groaned.  _ Great,  _ he thought.  _ Another Skywalker chat. _

“Mom, not now, right, I’m—”

“My mother died in childbirth and my father couldn’t cope, I was told. I accepted that. Luke and I were shunted from family member to family member, from good old Uncle Owen who farmed  _ sand  _ to good old Uncle Ben who played chess in his robes. We never asked any questions, we just did as we were told.”

“Uncle Ben was cool, you said as much yourself, and—”

“I’m not finished,” Leia said. “I didn’t ask any questions when we suddenly went back to living with our father. I didn’t ask any questions when Uncle Luke decided to become a  _ Druid  _ priest and celebrate solstices at ancient stone circles. I didn’t ask any questions when your father ran off with his floozies and I didn’t ask any questions when you came back after an absence of years.”

Now, Ben blanched. “Mom,” he whispered.

But Leia shook his head. “Today, I am going to ask you questions, Ben,” she said firmly. “And you are going to answer them.”

He swallowed, his mouth dry.

“And I want to know, first and foremost, about the girl you met back when you were calling yourself Kylo Ren.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we meet Poe and his Barbie doll collection (you need to trust me on this one)

**Author's Note:**

> GROOMS ARE NEVER A PROBLEM YOU SAY? (Insert evil author laugh here).
> 
> Next chapter... Ben learns he has a new wedding coordinator. And we get to meet Bazine, Runner up Miss Teen Rhode Island.


End file.
